Picture a farm boy, the oldest of a family of rowdy brothers who grew up on the same bumpy school bus route that I did.
Always a free thinker, he decided after high school that he didn’t care too much about spending time around scissors or razors. Before long he could be recognized at a distance with a distinctive tangle of hair and a wild beard. He became a truck driver, a husband and a farmer like his dad.
One night this summer, he slipped into his dark bedroom, woke up his wife and told her he needed to tell her something, and he wanted to tell her in the dark so she wouldn’t be frightened when she saw him.
It was all gone. His hair. His beard. Every scraggly strand of it.
What would cause him to do such a thing? Must have been peer pressure. This guy has a cousin who’s sporting a newly bald head, too.
Did I mention hers came from chemotherapy?
I am always touched when someone digs deep to support someone else. Not for glory. Not for honor. No reason but love.
Remember that shaggy hair and beard? He was only using it to shade a heart of gold.